


Gold and Spark

by breathtaken



Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: Community: criticalkink, Dildos, Getting Together, M/M, Non-Monogamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:18:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21919819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathtaken/pseuds/breathtaken
Summary: “I’m gonna tell your Secret Santa to get you a giant dildo.”“You know what I like, husband mine. Tell them to make it a really veiny one.”Of course, what Liam hadn’t counted on wasSambeing his Secret Santa this year.
Relationships: Liam O'Brien/Sam Riegel
Comments: 10
Kudos: 89





	Gold and Spark

**Author's Note:**

> For [this kink meme prompt](https://criticalkink.dreamwidth.org/3385.html?thread=1271353#cmt1271353): Sam gifts Liam large dildos as gag gifts, until one day Liam offers to let Sam watch him try one of his gifts.
> 
> As usual, don’t share this.

“Caleb was a teenager at the Empire’s most prestigious arcane academy. He could definitely have learned to Enlarge individual body parts. Among other things,” Liam says with a grin, and looks into the camera. “It’s canon.”

“I think Nott would probably need medical attention after that,” Sam says, mainly for Dani’s ensuing noise of outrage.

“Well, I think that’s all we have time for,” Brian cuts in – fighting a grin, which means he either can’t think of a joke or the one he’s thought of is too disgusting to say on air.

They’re actually pretty much up to time, so Sam sits back and puts his arm round Liam as Brian does the sign-off, Liam leaning in and kissing him on the cheek – and when he cuts his eyes to the monitor, Zach’s put up the heart overlay around them.

Sam winks at the camera, and hears Max say, “And we’re out.”

“I think you traumatized Dani,” Liam says cheerfully, and Sam squeezes his shoulder as Liam worms an arm around his back, hugging his middle.

“Then my work here is done,” he says, Liam’s arms only tightening around him when he makes as if to get up. “Or not.”

“I need my Sammy cuddle time,” Liam insists, shamelessly snuggling in, as Brian rolls his eyes and gets up to go and harass New Gregg. “Anyway. What’s the point of D&D if not projection.”

“That explains Caleb being a size queen,” Sam agrees.

Liam nods. “Art imitates life.”

“I’m gonna tell your Secret Santa to get you a giant dildo.”

“You know what I like, husband mine. Tell them to make it a really veiny one.” He yawns, putting a hand over his mouth, and lets go of Sam, with clear reluctance. “Alright. Before I fall asleep here.”

Of course, what Liam hadn’t counted on was _ Sam _ being his Secret Santa this year.

A quarter-hour later he’s sitting in his car outside the studio and ordering an eight-inch flesh-coloured dildo with a pink head and a frankly gross amount of vein detail on Amazon Prime.

When it arrives the next day it looks just as nasty in real life as it did onscreen, and he throws the box away so that when he wraps it it looks exactly like what it is, in some paper with little cartoon eggplants all over it that he’s been saving for the right moment. 

He writes on the gift tag: _ Hope this hits the spot X _

On the day he manages to get it under the tree on the Talks set without anyone catching him, and he’s already a little giddy when they gather in the requisite Santa hats and ugly sweaters to open their gifts, imagining the laugh they’re all gonna have at Liam’s expense.

Liam rolls his eyes and says, “Very funny,” when Taliesin passes him the package; but Sam keeps his eye on him as he rips through the layers of paper, and he sees the exact moment that Liam realizes it actually _ is _what it looks like, eyes widening and mouth falling ever so slightly open, and Sam fancies he can already see the tips of his ears turning red.

Then Laura notices, and chaos breaks loose.

“It’s from my Sammy, of course,” Liam says, in response to everyone’s various exclamations – looking straight at him with that grin he has when they’re playing to an audience, and Sam genuinely has no idea if Liam’s seen through him or if he’s just bluffing, or whether it really matters. “He knows I get lonely without him.”

“So many people give gag gifts for these things. It’s just lazy, I wanted to get you something you could really _ use,_” Sam replies, with a shit-eating grin of his own, and oh dear, they may just have killed Matt.

“Eww, it’s so _ veiny,_” Laura says, screwing up her nose, and Liam promptly slaps her hand away when she tries to reach for it. 

“He likes them veiny,” Sam says, at the exact moment that Liam says, “I like them veiny,” and as everyone bursts out laughing around them, Liam rocks forward onto his hands and knees and kisses Sam on the corner of the mouth.

“Thank you for my present, honey,” he says, syrupy-sweet; and Sam gives him a grin that’s all teeth and says, “Make sure you go slow and use plenty of lube,” because two can play this game.

Liam laughs. “This isn’t amateur hour,” he retorts just as Laura wrestles the toy right out of his hands – and a scuffle ensues that ends with Liam accidentally punching her in the breast, Travis’ drink getting knocked over and Ashley filming most of it, which is more or less business as usual when there aren’t any cameras on them. 

Still, Liam makes a point of giving Sam a particularly lingering hug as they get up to go over to the conference table, and Sam gropes his ass with his free hand because if Liam’s gonna push then he’s gonna push back harder.

“Are you warming me up for later?” Liam murmurs, voice low and slightly too loud – and when Travis splutters somewhere off to the side they just grin at each other for a moment, and Sam thinks giddily that he loves this man so much, sometimes he can hardly believe their friendship is actually real.

Then he notices that he was right: Liam’s ears _ are _kinda red.

Part of Sam’s brain is _ very _ interested in coming back to that thought later on.

“You’re always hot to me, baby,” he replies, and kisses the corner of Liam’s mouth, exactly as Liam did to him earlier. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Liam replies, and pats him on the back. “Come on. Serious business time. I’ll send you a full report tonight.”

“You better,” Sam tells him; and thinks nothing of it until he wakes up to a text from Liam a couple days later:

_ The verdict is good but could be better _

It takes Sam a good few seconds to realize what it’s about.

Then he actually snorts out loud alone in the bathroom, because _ really. _

He’s like, ninety percent sure Liam’s kidding. Well. Maybe eighty.

He texts back, _ I always accept constructive criticism, _ and goes back to washing his face.

It’s only a few minutes before his messaging app pings again:

_ If you think this counts as giant then I worry about your metrics. It did the job but it’s no Bad Dragon _

He opens his browser and types in ‘Bad Dragon’ – and yeah, okay, that _ is _the website he thought it was.

He asks, _ Tentacle or horse cock? _

Liam starts typing and stops again a couple times before finally sending, _ Surprise me. _

Sam’s just scrolling down the dildos, grimacing at the sight of one that looks like it’s got actual _ muscles, _ when he hears a suspicious crash coming from elsewhere in the house, followed immediately by giggling.

He types, _ How old do your kids have to get before they stop wrecking the joint? _

_ I’ll let you know when I find out, _ Liam replies, and Sam sighs and abandons his toothbrush with the toothpaste already on the brush, and goes to see if he needs to clean anything up.

He opens his browser a couple times over the next few days to realize he still has the Bad Dragon tab open, and each time has to hurriedly make sure no-one else can see his screen before saying to himself, _ I should close that, _and then not doing it.

He can’t decide whether or not this is a terrible idea, which normally means it is.

But. He keeps thinking about Liam’s reaction when he opened his gift – his _ real _reaction, not the one meant for his audience.

Sam’s positively _ itching _ to find out what Liam’s reaction will be if he follows through on this.

Besides. If he doesn’t and then Liam accuses him of chickening out, he’ll have practically betrayed their friendship and all that it stands for.

So next time he goes for a nice long poop, he takes his iPad in with him.

He picks the Echo, because it’s won awards, in large (which looks _ massive, _ and he debates going for the medium instead before remembering that Liam already told him an eight-inch dildo was disappointing), and in a surprise color because who the fuck even knows, and pretends not to notice how much it costs.

When it arrives a couple days later, discreetly packaged, it’s _ gold and sparkly, _ which is kind of ridiculous, though not as ridiculous as its sheer _ size _ – and Liam’s just gone out of town for the holidays, which is the worst possible timing because it means Sam is in grave danger of actually thinking about what the fuck it is he’s doing here.

He pushes the thought firmly aside. His and Liam’s friendship is about back-and-forth, off-the-cuff, yes-and. Not about backing down, or backing out.

He wraps the box and shoves it in the back of his closet, where he tries mostly successfully not to think about it for the next two weeks.

He may have put a borderline-weird amount of both thought and dollars into this, but he knows from long experience that the satisfaction of breaking Liam’s composure, or even better, destroying it entirely, will be worth every moment and every penny.

When he finally brings it to the studio for their first show of the new year, practically burning a hole in his bag, he’s actually kinda _ nervous. _ Which is ridiculous, because this is just a prank. Pranks are kind of what they’re about.

As usual he’s cut it fine timing-wise and doesn’t have the chance to get Liam alone until break, when he pulls him away from Ashley and Marisha with the comment that he needs to give Liam his _ real _Christmas present, and laughs a little too hard when Liam tells them, “Don’t wait up.”

He leads him into the makeup room and closes the door behind them, as Liam says, “I should warn you, I can’t take you seriously when you’re dressed like that.”

Sam gives him a very Gallic shrug; the sight of Liam visibly struggling not to laugh just from looking at him already makes him feel a lot more at ease. 

He takes the string of garlic from around his neck and hangs it ceremoniously around Liam’s, and says in his best French accent, “You can take me ‘owever you like.”

“Are we French married now?” Liam asks, and Sam replies, “Not until tonight,” and winks for good measure, as he takes Liam’s present out of the bag before he can chicken out. “Happy late Christmas.”

For a moment Liam just looks at the box, bemused, before he reaches out to take it. “I thought we weren’t gonna –”

Then he snaps his jaw shut, and there’s a moment of silence as – yeah, he’s actually going _ red. _

Sam resolves to wrap all of Liam’s future presents to make them look like they’re gonna be dildos, for the rest of their lives.

He says, “Is it ‘ot in ‘ere or is it just me?”

“Don’t give up the day job,” Liam replies immediately, but there’s something awkward in his grin and he’s definitely blushing; and he hesitates for another moment before making short work of the paper, like he’s ripping off a Band-Aid.

“Oh,” he says, in a small voice as he sees what’s inside – and there’s something in that _ oh _ that Sam really isn’t sure he understands. “Wow. Well. This is definitely a step up from your first attempt.”

“I ‘eard you were a size queen,” Sam replies, still in the accent, and Liam laughs like he can’t help himself.

“Thank you for my present,” he says, and when he goes in for a hug, Sam half-suspects it’s so Liam doesn’t have to look him in the eye. “I’m sure it’ll keep me busy.”

“Never let it be said I’m not a considerate husband,” Sam replies, dropping the accent, and Liam does that weird laugh again and says, “You’re my favorite husband. Nice color, by the way.”

“Gold is best color,” Sam replies, switching to Russian because he knows when Liam’s setting him up; and Liam laughs again as Sam hands him the plastic bag, and and gives him a look Sam can’t interpret as he holds the door open for him. 

Liam makes no move to give his garlic necklace back, and Sam thinks about all the internet theories it will spawn when he wears it on stream, and doesn’t ask for it.

He’s on edge for the rest of the show, in a way he’s not accustomed to, though he buries it as deep as he can and puts all his energy into trolling Travis; but on the drive home, he can no longer avoid his own thoughts.

He thought it was gonna be funnier than it was. He really, really did; and he could tell that Liam was trying to be gracious but Sam had genuinely wrong-footed him, and once may have been funny but twice was –

Liam’s talked about butt stuff a bunch of times over the years, but Sam has never thought seriously about whether he might actually _ like _it, because that really wasn’t the point.

But now, he can tell he’s pushed his way into somewhere Liam didn’t want him to go – and he may have been too polite to say as much but Sam’s a modern man, okay, he can do feelings. He knows when he’s gone too far and needs to apologize for it, because they may be best friends but Sam’s not too dense to understand that there are some things even best friends don’t talk about. 

He resolves to check Dani’s schedule over the weekend and figure out when he can catch Liam at the studio, and deal with it then, and reassures himself that it’s gonna be okay. They’ve been best friends for almost twenty years and they’ve both had things to apologize for every now and then; in the scheme of things this really isn’t that serious.

He checks his phone on Monday morning to a text from Liam:

_ You outdid yourself with this one. I may never walk straight again _

As the words sink in, Sam sits down a little too heavily on the nearest flat surface, which happens to be a plastic box where his kids are supposed to keep their toys.

Looks like he read this completely wrong, then, because Liam being genuinely uncomfortable with Sam gifting him a dildo really doesn’t track with Liam then giving him the lurid details the morning after.

He replies, _ You’re welcome, _ and then types out _ I’m impressed _ before deleting it again. 

He can ask. Can’t he? If Liam’s already volunteering information? Not that he really knows what the fuck the etiquette is in this situation, if there even is any.

_ Dear Abby, I gave my best friend a giant dildo, is it rude to ask if he enjoyed it? _ he thinks inanely, and types, _ Did this one hit the spot? _

He moves from plastic box to couch, and waits, ignoring the sounds of his kids running up and down the stairs like they’re training for the hundred meter dash, his chest weirdly tight. 

A few very long minutes later, he sees the ellipsis that means Liam’s typing for just a moment before the message appears:

_ Repeatedly. _

Sam chuckles under his breath, a little relieved, and is about to put his phone away and go see about breakfast when he gets another message:

_ It’ll take some practise to fully do it justice _

_ Well, my birthday’s coming up, _Sam replies without thinking, despite the fact that it’s January and his birthday’s in October – and then realizes the implications of what he’s just said.

He and Liam have always been – well. Tactile, for sure. Flirty, even? He doesn’t think he’d call it _ flirting _ exactly, but they’ve been play-acting as an old married couple for as long as he can remember, and Sam’s never given a fuck that some people find it weird or that Liam actually likes guys sometimes because he’s always been able to make him laugh when he puts on those bedroom eyes and says something outrageous.

But it’s only ever been play-acting. He’s never given Liam a sex toy before and listened to him talk about using it – and Sam didn’t really believe him the first time, but he realizes with a jolt of alarm that he believes him now.

That this feels suddenly, horribly _ real, _ in a way it never has before.

Okay. No need to panic. He’s probably overthinking this. They make sexual jokes all the time, and he doesn’t know for sure that Liam isn’t just fucking with him. Any moment now Liam will say something funny and Sam will laugh, and then he can get on with his life and forget that he ever pushed things a little too far and freaked himself out in the process.

But when Liam replies thirty seconds later, what he actually says is:

_ Looks like you’ll get your present early this year _

Sam stares at the message. Then he stares at it some more. 

He doesn’t know exactly what he was expecting Liam to say, but he feels like this is really _ not it. _

This feels _ flirty – _ like, _ actually flirty _ – and there’s a split second where Sam’s brain betrays him by conjuring up an image of what it imagines Liam’s face would look like _ while he _ – before he immediately shoves the thought away, horrified with himself.

_ Okay, _ this is _ really _ not good, this is –

He jumps when his phone rings. 

It’s Liam.

_ Shit. _

Sam fumbles his phone and almost cancels the call before he manages to answer it.

He curses inwardly when the video comes on automatically, and Liam looks – 

“Hey,” Sam says, and then stops, grimacing before remembering Liam can see him, then trying to force his expression back into something resembling normal.

If this was still a joke, Liam wouldn’t be calling him at six thirty on a Monday morning, looking like he does.

“Sammy. Were you joking just now?”

Liam’s voice is low and urgent, and this has definitely stopped being funny. He’s staring into the camera like his gaze could burn a hole in it and Sam’s fucked up _so badly, _he’s crossed a line and now Liam thinks he _means it –_

He’s already opened his mouth to say _ yes, of course I was joking, weren’t you? _– and stops.

_ Was _he, really?

“I don’t know?” he says instead, and winces at the resounding silence that follows, and the way Liam’s face just _ blanks, _emptying of all emotion. “Sorry, that feels like a dick thing to say, but it’s true. I think.” 

Liam sighs. “Okay.” He looks so _ tired _ suddenly that Sam wants more than anything to take it back, say whatever Liam wants to hear if it means he can fix this.

What _ does _Liam want to hear?

“I’m not mad,” he says, just in case Liam thinks he is, cause he knows how Liam’s brain is mean to him like that sometimes. “I just – I didn’t mean –” 

He stops again, chewing on his tongue in frustration, looking out of the window. This conversation feels like a minefield, and he doesn’t trust himself to unravel the tangle of his thoughts without stepping wrong, and blowing this up.

“I’m sorry. Can I just – think for a moment? Don’t hang up. I just need to think.”

“Of course,” Liam replies, and as Sam looks back there’s something so soft and fragile in his voice that Sam suddenly _ aches _ to be with him, to hold him and comfort him – and then he freaks out a little all over again, because it’s starting to look like these are actually _ not _the platonic best friend kind of thoughts he’d always assumed they were.

He hurriedly looks away from the screen again.

Is this what gay panic feels like, because talk about showing up forty-two years late with a fantasy dildo order. 

He thinks about Liam’s face when he unwrapped the first toy, and then the second: shocked and flustered, the tips of his ears turning red; about the way Liam kisses him just on the corner of his mouth, and how it feels like a metaphor for their entire friendship; about the fact that few things feel as good as pushing him, and having him push back, and what that might mean.

He takes a deep breath in through his nose, and makes himself look at Liam again, and tries not to freak out even further about how unreadable his friend’s expression is when he wants it to be, which is a skill Sam himself has never had.

“I think – I thought I was joking,” he tries, and then stops. “No, that’s a lie. I _ told _myself this whole thing was a joke because then I wouldn’t have to think about what I was doing and why I was doing it.” On the other end of the phone, Liam’s still silent, waiting him out. “I think I need to talk to my wife now.”

“Yeah,” Liam says, so quietly that Sam barely hears it.

“Look. It’s gonna be okay,” he says, a little desperately. “I promise. Even if we – if things get weird for a bit. We’ll get through it. You’re my best friend and I love you. Okay?”

“Okay. Love you.” 

Liam looks so distant, Sam _ hates _ it.

But he caused this, and now he has to deal with the consequences.

“Love you too. Look, I have to go and make sure my kids put their pants on the right way round. I’ll try and call you tonight, okay? After I’ve spoken to Q. If I can’t then I’ll text and let you know.” He hesitates, then asks, “You gonna be okay today?”

“Yeah,” Liam replies, voice still small; and though Sam isn’t entirely sure he believes him, he doesn’t think he has the right to call him on it. “I’ll be okay.”

“‘Kay. If you need anything, just say the word, okay? Promise me.”

“Promise,” Liam echoes, and Sam supposes that will have to do for now.

No matter how much of an idiot he is, his busy, fulfilling, wonderful life doesn’t stop: between dropping the kids off and the studio and picking the kids up again and family time there’s no room to stew, and it’s not until both kids are finally in bed and he and his wife are alone that he can open a bottle of expensive Zinfandel and pour Q a glass she didn’t ask him for, and wait out the zero point two seconds it always takes her to realize something’s up.

When she gives him a look and says, “What?”, he tells her everything.

She takes his hand as he talks, making little encouraging noises but never interrupting, this look on her face throughout like she thinks he’s ridiculous, but knows he’s hurting and feels for him too, but still kind of wants to laugh at him.

“Oh honey,” she says rubbing her thumb over his knuckles; she really does have the world’s most beautiful smile. “You’ve been a bit of an idiot, haven’t you.”

“‘A bit’ might be an understatement,” Sam admits, but relief rushes through him like a wave.

He’s spent easily as much time today worrying about _ her _ reaction as he has about Liam’s, but if she’s laughing at him then he knows it’s gonna be okay.

“So you’ve told me what happened.” Q gives him a searching look. “But how are you feeling?”

“I, uh.” Sam runs a hand over his face. “To be honest, I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about that part.”

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to start,” she tells him, not unkindly. “Cause I wanna know, and so does Liam. And we both deserve to.”

“Ooh. Tough love,” Sam complains half-heartedly, as if he’d want it any other way. “Okay. So. Liam and I are – we’re Liam and I.” When Q gives him a look that clearly indicates she’s coming to the end of tolerating his bullshit, Sam sighs, and resigns himself to actually answering the question properly. “We’re not your average guy friends. I mean, we joke about being husbands, for God’s sake. And I’ve always liked that there’s never been any – posturing, or, or machismo. We talk about our feelings and then we have a cuddle, and that’s how we are. Unless it actually _ isn’t _ –”

He stops talking when he actually fucking _ chokes up. _

In almost twenty years of friendship there’s been the odd bump in the road but he’s never, ever _ doubted _ before. He’s always known who they are, or _ thought _ he did –

Did Liam see this coming? Was he always secretly wanting something more?

Is he feeling as lost as Sam is right now, and as scared?

“I don’t know,” he concludes with a shrug, suddenly exhausted by the whole thing.

Q leans in and kisses his shoulder.

“Okay. So. I know that when you gave him dildo number two, you weren’t thinking it through. But now that you are.” Q raises an eyebrow, and Sam can actually feel his heart rate kicking up in response. “Are you interested?”

“Does it matter? I’m married. To _ you._”

He thinks he was trying to sound reassuring, but really he just sounds defensive.

“Yes, it absolutely does.” Q stares him down until he looks away, ashamed, and then adds, more gently, “Shall I tell you what I think?”

“Sure,” he replies, because he knows her well enough to know she’s gonna tell him anyway.

“I think you and Liam are tinder, and you just needed a spark.” As he stares at her, she just smiles. “I knew it, Amy definitely knew it. And Liam probably knew it as well, even if he pretended not to. And I think that if there was truly nothing more to this, you wouldn’t be scared. And running scared is no way for any of us to live.” She leans in and kisses him. “I love you, and nothing you’ve said in the last half hour has changed that. We can work this out, I just want you to be completely honest with me.”

Sam presses his face into her hair and whispers, “How do you know if you’re having a gay panic?”

She laughs out loud. “Oh, babe,” she says, and whispers back, “I think that if you think you are, then there’s probably a reason for that.”

He rests his head against her shoulder and sighs, indescribably grateful that he found this wonderful woman, and has been able to keep her besides, before his mind catches on one of the other things she mentioned. “You said Amy knew.”

“Yeah. She said something to me once. Do you remember they had that party? A couple years ago, I think just before the show started. You and Liam were slow-dancing in the garden and she came up to me and said, ‘Liam’s always had a big heart’.”

Sam frowns. “Well, he does.”

“It was the way she said it. It was very – _ deliberate. _ And if I’m right, then she was trying to tell me he felt something more for you, without actually saying the words. Perhaps in case I didn’t understand her, or didn’t want to.” Q shrugs. “That was all. But I started to look at him a little differently after that.” 

And why does _ that _feel like betrayal, when if anyone’s in the wrong here, it’s him?

“And were you ever planning on telling me?”

“Only if I thought you needed to hear it. I might have been wrong. Or she might. And if we weren’t, then it would be Liam’s secret to tell.” 

Sam sighs. “I guess you’re right.”

It’s not like it would have made anything better if she _ had _ told him.

“So. Let’s talk about where we go from here.”

Sam blinks.

“Go where?”

“Well, Liam likes you, and you like Liam,” Q says slowly. “Liam wants to show you his new toy. And you want to watch.” She raises an eyebrow, as if daring him to contradict her. 

“And I’m _ married,_” Sam argues, face heating. “To _ you._” 

“Yes. I know,” Q replies with an enigmatic smile, and seriously, why is she not _ getting it? _

“So I can’t _ do _ that!”

“You can if I say you can.”

For a moment he just stares at her, utterly speechless.

He thought he knew how this was gonna go. She’d understand that nobody can help how they feel, and that he didn’t mean for him and Liam to end up where they did; then he’d call Liam and say that Q wasn’t upset and that he was sorry for making things weird, and then it might take them a couple weeks, or even a couple months, but the wound in their friendship would scab over, and eventually heal. They’d be okay.

And now his wife is telling him that it doesn’t have to be that way. That he can – 

“Why?”

“Because I want you to be happy, and to seize happiness when it comes knocking. And I’d like to think you’d do the same for me.” While he’s still reeling from _ that _ idea on top of everything else, she takes his face in her hands. “And because I _ know _ you. I know you’re a good husband and a good father. And I’m okay with you having sex with Liam, if you decide you want to do that too, because I know you’ll always put our family first.”

“Jesus, Q,” he murmurs, overwhelmed for a moment, resting his forehead against hers. “I – love you. _ So _ much. Thank you for being a lot smarter than I am.”

“Credit where credit’s due.” She winks. “So are you gonna call your husband?”

Sam sighs. “And say what?”

He doesn’t want to be ungrateful, but if Q had told him nothing could ever happen between him and Liam, it would at least have made things considerably more straightforward.

“That you want to watch him play with his new toy. _ Obviously._” When he just looks at her, she says, “Look, I know this isn’t easy. I’m sure you remember the number of times I’ve been so scared of getting what I wanted that I didn’t even know I wanted it. And you know who was always there for me, and helped me seize my happiness? You.” She leans in and kisses him. “So. You have my blessing. Now go get your man.”

“Right.”

He’s always trusted her, even when he hasn’t trusted himself; if she thinks that despite all the fear and uncertainty swirling around inside him he should still try, then he’s going to trust her, and try.

“Okay. Going.”

He gives her a final kiss, gets up, and heads upstairs, already taking his phone out of his pocket. 

When Liam picks up, Sam doesn’t even say hello.

“I spoke to Q. She thinks you should show me your new toy.” 

There’s a horrible moment of silence before Liam says, “You can come over on Sunday. Between one and four. You don’t have to leave at four but we do have to be presentable then. Sam –”

“I still don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” Sam interrupts, because if he doesn’t say this now then he feels like it’ll knot up too tight inside him to ever get out. “Or – how I feel. But I think I want to find out.”

“Bold of you to assume _ I _know what the fuck I’m doing,” Liam quips, but Sam can hear the relief in his voice plain as day.

Softly, he replies, “I’d rather not know together.”

For a few moments, they’re both silent; there’s plenty that will need to be said eventually, but Sam senses that this isn’t the time, for either of them.

“We should go to bed,” he says instead. “Love you.”

“Love you too. See you Thursday.”

“See more of you Sunday,” Sam replies without thinking, and when Liam chuckles, he says goodbye and cancels the call, thankful that Liam can’t see him flush.

Now he just has to make it through the rest of the week; and he thinks he can count on one hand the number of times in his _ life _ he’s been this antsy. It’s okay when he’s busy, which between work and kids he nearly always is, but the evenings are the worst, and he spends most of them working out in the garage just to keep himself moving, and of course then he can’t get to sleep, minutes becoming hours lying in bed beside his wife and looking at the ceiling, thinking.

He keeps thinking about texting Liam, imagines him not sleeping either, maybe lying in his yard looking up at the stars, but doesn’t know what the fuck he’d say.

_ I’m thinking about you, are you thinking about me? _

No. Not yet. 

And what’s a week, in the scheme of things?

He actually tries to be a little early on Thursday, but of course his last session runs over because his actors are too busy making fart jokes to actually deliver their lines, and then LA traffic inevitably happens – and by the time he makes it onto set they’re two minutes to live and everyone else is seated. 

He doesn’t even know he’s going to do it until he’s most of the way to his chair – and then decides there’s somewhere else he’d rather be.

He stops right by Liam; and when he looks up, still a hint of something guarded in his expression, Sam says, “Is there room for another little one?” 

“There’s always room for my Sammy,” Liam replies lightly, and scoots his chair back so Sam can sit on his lap. 

He bums an eyeliner pencil off of Marisha and delivers the D&D Beyond ad copy while drawing a Musketeers beard and a monocle on Liam’s face; while the intro’s playing he asks for her brightest red lipstick, puts it on himself and then kisses Liam half on the mouth, deliberately smearing his lips until he leaves a blurry scarlet imprint behind. 

He moves to his own seat, arranges his things to start the game, and waits to rub the excess lipstick off on a tissue until Matt’s half way through the recap, confident that the camera will pick it up.

Vinnie tosses Liam some wet wipes thirty seconds later, and though he gets most of it off with Marisha’s help there are still a few grimy smears left behind on his skin, and a couple times Sam catches Travis grinning and pointing at different parts of his own face, and Liam grins back and pretends to rub at that spot.

When they go to break, he leans over to Liam and says, “Want me to do you a nice John Waters for the second half?”

Liam raises an eyebrow. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“The kids love their seventies film references.” Sam feels his smile slip. “Do you wanna –?”

“Yeah.” Liam replies, already getting up.

Sam follows him as he loops around onto the new set and stops, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking Sam straight in the eye as he says, “We shouldn’t try and talk about this now.”

“No,” Sam agrees, unable to help his relief. “We’ve got a show that must go on.”

He’s not sure if Liam’s supposed to look different to him now, but he doesn’t. He looks the same as he always has – and yeah, Sam has no hope of unpacking all this in the next ten minutes.

He hesitates for a moment before stepping forward and hugging him, and Liam holds him as tight as he always does, and Sam feels just as at home in his arms as he always has.

At length Liam kisses him on the ear and says, “Okay, I really need to pee. And actually wash my face properly.”

Sam snorts. “_Plus ça change._”

He lets Liam go with a clap on the back and watches as he walks away, before giving himself a mental shake and going back to the table.

He has two messages from Q:

_ That lipstick’s not your color _

_ It’s a big hit on Twitter though _

He replies, _ I thought a classic red lip looked good on everyone, _ and wonders if every time she’s laughed at his and Liam’s antics over the past few years she’s been thinking about what Amy said, and looking to see if there’s something more there too.

Then he wonders if that something _ has _ been there the whole time, and he was the only one who couldn’t see it.

For the rest of the week he throws himself full-tilt at everything that comes his way, trying to ignore his own jitters, refusing to consider what’s going to happen on Sunday until it _ is _ Sunday and he’s in the car and driving to Liam’s with the radio up slightly too loud, singing along to every song that comes along.

His bag contains a six-pack of beer, a spare pair of boxers and very little else, and however this goes, it will blow their friendship as they know it out of the water.

It feels like he arrives far too soon; he pulls into the driveway, parks up, takes his bag and walks to the door, something tight in the pit of his stomach.

When Liam opens up, Sam says, “Hi,” and then just stands there, like an idiot.

“Hey. Come on in,” Liam replies after a beat, waving him in; and though he looks about as tense as Sam feels, he still pulls him into a brief hug before leading the way.

“I brought beers,” Sam says, following; Liam stops at the living room door, and turns.

“I don’t really want a drink right now,” he says, shifting from foot to foot; and in that split second looking at Liam looking at him, Sam decides he’s done playing catch-up. 

He puts down his bag.

“Okay, you know what. Let’s just go get our dicks out, ‘cause this is the weirdest two minutes of our entire friendship to date and neither of us are enjoying it.”

“You could at least buy me dinner first,” Liam says reflexively, and Sam rolls his eyes so hard it hurts a little.

“Never mind dinner, I bought you a massive dildo and I wanna see you use it.”

He wasn’t even trying to be sexy, but Liam’s eyes widen, and his nostrils flare – and his voice is lower when he asks, “Say that again?”

Sam raises an eyebrow and tries for a little smoulder, still half-expecting it’s not gonna work and Liam will just laugh at him when he repeats: “I bought you a dildo. I wanna see you use it.”

But Liam doesn’t laugh.

Instead, his mouth falls very slightly open before he says, “Come with me.”

He turns on his heel and Sam follows him upstairs, heart in his mouth.

Liam’s spare bedroom has a small armchair in one corner, facing the foot of the bed, and a familiar golden dildo glittering on the nightstand, next to a bottle of lube and a box of tissues.

_ Interior, bedroom, afternoon, _Sam thinks, as he walks over to the chair and sits down, gesturing at the bed. “Go ahead.”

For a moment Liam just looks at him, and then he starts to strip.

He’s – well. He has a body, average fit and a little less broad than Sam’s, and when he takes his boxers off he has a cock too, half-hard; and Sam thinks that while he may not be running screaming just yet, this could still be what killed the cat.

“There’s a couple ways I can do this,” Liam says, taking a towel from the end of the bed and laying it out, and then another. Sam wonders how much lube he’s planning on using.

“However you like,” Sam replies, with a veneer of calm he really isn’t feeling. “I can move if I need to get a better view.”

“‘Kay.” Liam kneels on the bed, facing Sam; Sam keeps his eyes firmly on Liam’s face. “I need to use my fingers first. Before I can fit that thing.”

Sam nods. “Go for it,” he says, trying not to think about how utterly surreal all this is.

If he was Liam right now, he can’t imagine being so together, or even being able to look him in the eyes.

“Okay,” Liam says again, and this time Sam spots the moment of hesitation before he squirts a few pumps of lube into his hand, rocks back onto his haunches and reaches back behind his body, biting his lip as his gaze slides from Sam’s.

Sam can’t quite see, but he knows exactly when Liam’s fingers push inside himself because his eyes widen, locking onto Sam’s once more, and he lets out a quiet huff of breath in the otherwise silent room.

Sam hardly dares breathe.

He can’t quite see, but he _ can _ see the tendons flexing in Liam’s forearms and the subtle rock of his pelvis, see his face flushing and – and his cock thickening and filling – and Sam may not know what the fuck he’s doing here but he doesn’t think he could bear to look away for even a moment.

“Yeah, you keep doing that,” he says with his mouth, which is apparently acting entirely independently of his brain. “If you’re gonna take that thing to the hilt you’ll need to work for it.”

Liam stills, staring at Sam like he doesn’t know him at all; and for a moment the tension’s so thick Sam fancies he could choke on it.

“I got this,” Liam says at length, something guarded in his face – and for a horrible moment the part of Sam’s brain that’s always mapping the scene, looking for the next hook, falters.

He needs Liam with him for this. They need each other. They’re in this now and they’ve gotta do it properly, and he doesn’t give a fuck if Liam laughs at him or if they fuck it up somehow as long as they _ commit. _

“How many fingers?” 

When Liam hesitates, he hardens his expression, and pushes: “How many fingers, Li?”

There’s some shifting, a stifled grunt and a distinct hiss of breath before Liam replies, “Three.”

_ Three. _

Liam’s got three fingers in himself and is rocking back and forth on them, his cock bobbing between his spread legs, and Sam still doesn’t quite know how to feel about this whole thing but he _ does _ know what he wants to see next.

“Good,” he says softly, and decides he likes what Liam’s face does when he says that. “You were so dismissive of your first present, I thought you needed teaching a lesson in gratitude.”

“You here to make sure I learn?” Liam gasps – and _ there _it is, Sam can feel the familiar tug of give-and-take, and smiles even wider as he lets it pull him in.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? Someone to make you take it? To fill that greedy little hole of yours and make you thank them for it?”

He worries for a moment it’s too much – he’s just throwing out ideas like a crappy psychic, to see what catches – but Liam hisses and his nostrils flare, and that’s all Sam’s ever needed, and all he ever will.

“I knew you wanted to fill me up when you bought it,” he rasps; and Sam gives him a grin that’s all teeth and counters, “More like bring you down a peg. ‘Cause I don’t think you can actually take it.”

“I told you I’m not some kind of amateur.” Liam’s expression is just as vicious, as he does something with his fingers that makes him tense and let out a jagged breath. “I can take it. Gonna prove it to you.”

“Size queen,” Sam says, and this time it’s tender.

Liam grins. “Told you.”

“How many fingers?”

“Still three. Good things take time, Sammy.”

“Sorry. I don’t wanna rush you,” Sam replies, and falls silent, just trying to look everywhere at once: the scarlet tips of Liam’s ears, his heavy-lidded dark eyes, the tension in his arm and his cock dark and heavy, bobbing with every thrust; and it’s new and weird and a little terrifying but Sam absolutely doesn’t want it to stop.

His focus has narrowed to Liam, his face and his body and his harsh, unsteady breathing, and the low tautness of his own arousal, growing uncomfortable in his pants.

Liam catches Sam pushing the heel of his hand against his crotch, his dark eyes sparking. “Enjoying the show?”

_ Well. _He supposes that’s the point.

“There’s a show?” he replies, but Liam’s smirk says he’s not fooled – and when he tips his head back, showing off the line of his neck, and groans, eyes fluttering shut, it’s at least fifty percent theatrics but Sam’s damned if it doesn’t get him all the same.

This is what he wants. For Liam to play with him, to _ fuck _with him, anything as long as he’s with him.

“I need something in between my fingers and that monster,” Liam says at length, pulling his hand free and wiping it off on the corner of the towel, groaning as he rocks onto his knees and leans over.

“I call it Goldfinger.”

Liam laughs. “Okay. Ruined forever.” He opens the drawer to the nightstand and pulls out a black spade-shaped plug that doesn’t _ quite _ measure up to Sam’s gift, but still looks pretty fucking substantial to his inexpert eye.

As he slicks it up he says conversationally, “This was my biggest toy until last week.”

“You’re welcome,” Sam replies, and because he’s practically aching with curiosity, “Not a dildo?”

“This is for stretching,” Liam explains, “Not for the old in-and-out.” He raises an eyebrow. “I take it this isn’t your kind of thing?”

“Only the odd stray finger,” Sam admits. “Not that I didn’t – like it. Just haven’t – explored.”

_ Who has time, _he almost adds, with their lives the way they are – except that Liam does, apparently.

Sam supposes he’s just never quite been curious enough for that curiosity to overcome his reservations.

“Then watch and learn,” Liam says as he reaches behind himself with the plug in hand, tensing for a second before his face changes, and Sam think about the size of that plug and the size of the dildo and tries to subtly put pressure on his own erection, though Liam’s eyes flick immediately to his lap, and he’s looking just as keenly at Sam as Sam is at him. “Like what you see?”

“Uh.” Sam’s tongue has never felt too large for his mouth before. “Yeah. I think I do.”

“Good,” Liam says breathlessly as he exerts himself: not back and forth any more, just a slow, steady stretch. “Just a couple more minutes, then we can get to the main attraction.”

_ You’re the main attraction, _Sam thinks.

He says, “Gonna prove me wrong, then?”

“You know it,” Liam says, chin jutting defiantly. “Gonna give you the hottest damn show you’ve ever seen.”

“Then I think I deserve the best seat in the house.” Sam gets half-up and scoots his chair over to beside the bed, Liam still just beyond his reach. “There. That’s better. Though I want you on your back for the next bit. So I can actually see you fuck yourself.” 

There’s a half-formed image in his mind of just that: Liam’s feet flat against the mattress, his arm pistoning and the dildo flashing gold; and when the Liam in front of him actually _ moans _as he pulls the plug free from his body, Sam’s cock jumps beneath his hand in response and he huffs out an unsteady breath that makes Liam’s eyes widen.

“Wanna watch you jerk off to me,” Liam says, so quiet it’s almost reverent; and Sam snaps like a whip, “Then earn it.”

“Yes, _ sir,_” Liam says mockingly, with a curl of his lip, the few feet between them positively thrumming with tension.

Sam smiles sunnily and replies, “‘Sam’ is fine.” He raises an eyebrow. “Well? I’m waiting.”

“God forbid I keep you waiting,” Liam retorts, but he’s already moving onto his back, arranging a stack of pillows against the headboard, and then picking up the dildo, which looks even more massive now it’s in his hand.

“It’s gonna take a few minutes to get it all in,” he warns – and for the first time since they came into this room together, Sam can hear that his voice is clearly laced with nerves.

“If you manage it,” he replies, hesitation creeping into his tone just at the end in case actually that _ isn’t _ what Liam needs to hear any more; he tries to soften it with, “I wanna see you try.”

“Huh,” Liam says, then nothing else as he concentrates on slicking up the toy with what looks like excessive amounts of lube, before lying back against his mound of pillows and pulling his knees up to his chest.

For the first time Sam can see his hole, red and puffy and stretched, and above it the glistening tip of his cock – and as he stares, the realization of just how much he _ likes this _is a cold splash of fear through his heated body, his eyes dropping to his lap, his traitorous erection and his other hand gripping his thigh so hard it hurts.

This was never supposed to happen. 

He’s _ married. _ Liam’s his _ best friend. _

He _ likes it _ but he _ shouldn’t _ but he _ does _–

“Sam.”

He looks up.

Liam, wide-eyed and still, waiting for Sam to be with him again.

“Yeah.” His voice comes out hoarse, and he swallows. “Do it.”

He’s in this, and he watches as Liam starts to slowly press the toy into his body, eyes glassy and teeth digging into his lip, letting out a ragged groan as the head pushes fully inside.

“Take it.” His words are meant to be an order, but come out soft. “Yeah, you take it for me. I want you stuffed to the hilt.”

When he started this it was just dirty talk; but as they look at each other, Liam’s gaze boring through Sam’s chest and exposing his heart, he realizes that every word he’s saying _ matters. _That Liam’s fucking himself with the dildo Sam gave him, because Sam asked him to.

“Working on it,” Liam pants, eyes sliding up towards the ceiling. His arm has stilled, and he grimaces.

Sam waits a couple seconds, then carefully asks, “Li?”

“I, uh.” His arm tenses again, but doesn’t move. “I’m not sure if I can do this.”

The dildo’s maybe another inch in, but no further – Sam can still see the thickest part of the shaft – and Liam looks _ upset, _which he doesn’t know at all what to do with.

“Do you, uh…” He casts about for an end to that sentence that isn’t ‘want to stop’. “Do you want me to come over there?”

“Yeah. Okay,” Liam agrees, still looking a little lost; Sam gets to his feet without knowing exactly what he’s gonna do, but as he sheds his pants and socks, he figures it out.

“Sit up a little?”

Liam pushes himself up so Sam can get in behind him, and pull Liam back against his chest. “Okay,” he says, wrapping his arms across Liam’s chest, his skin hot to the touch, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “No rush. Just take your time. If it goes it goes, if it doesn’t then we try again next time.”

“There’s gonna be a next time?”

Liam’s trying for joking, but Sam knows him too well for that.

“There is if I have any say in it.” He moves his hands experimentally, brushing over one of Liam’s nipples. “These do anything?”

“Eh. Not much.” Liam rolls his head to one side and grins up at him. “I can tell you something that does, though.”

Sam thinks his own expression must be positively sappy, but he’s not sure he cares. “I bet. But I’d rather find out if you can come just from fucking yourself.”

“_Oh _ Jesus,” Liam gasps, eyes losing focus again as his forearm flexes. “_Fuck, _Sammy. I had no idea you’d be so good at this.”

“Well, I’m insulted. How’s it going?”

“Bit further.” Liam huffs. “Not there yet.”

“Mmm. You should slide it in and out for me. _ Slowly. _Show me how you fuck yourself,” Sam murmurs against the shell of his ear.

“‘Kay. Hang on, angle’s not quite –”

When Liam pulls his legs tighter into his chest Sam holds them there, spreading his thighs until he has an unimpeded view of Liam’s cock, hard and leaking on his belly, and behind it, the giant gold dildo splitting him open.

“Best seat in the house,” he says. “I’m ready for my show.”

“_Fuck,_” Liam groans as he pulls the toy out until Sam can see the base of the head – it’s maybe only two inches, but the _ noise _ he makes – “_Sammy, _ fuck –”

“Yeah, just like that.” Sam tightens his hold on Liam’s thighs. “You look amazing. Here’s what you’re gonna do for me. You’re gonna keep fucking yourself like that, nice and slowly, until you can take all of it. I don’t care if it takes you five minutes or an hour. We’ve got time.” He smiles even wider as Liam groans, equal parts arousal and frustration. “Then you’re gonna come, just like that. Without even touching yourself. That’s the show I want.”

“Shit. I’ll – try,” Liam gasps, and he sounds so overwhelmed that Sam kisses away the sweat at his hairline, his lips lingering.

“Don’t worry about it. Just enjoy. Does it feel good?”

“Yeah – feels good,” Liam breathes, his face slack with pleasure, and Sam holds him where he wants him and listens to the sounds he’s making, and watches the movement of the toy, in and out, glittering gold.

He’s so transfixed that he doesn’t know how long it’s been when Liam finally works the widest part of the shaft inside himself with a pained groan, followed by an alarming yelp a few moments later as he slides it home.

“Ridge,” he mumbles, and Sam wonders in amusement if he could even manage to speak in full sentences right now. 

“Only the best for my Liam.” He kisses his temple. “Look. You did it.”

“Huh.” Liam’s eyes are heavy-lidded and he looks down his body as if it’s a surprise to him.

Then he rolls his head back, craning his neck, and gives Sam what he can only describe as puppy-dog eyes. “Kiss me?”

It’s only then that Sam realizes he’s the special kind of idiot who watched Liam shove a dildo up his ass without ever thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.

It’s clumsy and imperfect, the angle’s horrible and his neck aches after thirty seconds, but it’s _ Liam, _ lips warm and wet and sighing a little into Sam’s mouth; and as they kiss it feels like a dam breaking in his chest: everything he’s held back now unleashed, terrifying and wonderful and overwhelming.

He wants to do this _ forever. _

He pulls away just long enough to shift out from behind Liam, ignoring his noise of protest, and lie down beside him, kissing him again as his hand reaches down, down until it finds Liam’s on the base of the dildo, and wraps around it.

“Can I?” he whispers, and Liam groans against his lips and says, “Fuck, _please_ –”

“_Yeah. _Gonna fuck you,” he growls, and pulls.

He’s careful as he guides Liam’s hand, letting him set the pace, slow and steady as together they move the dildo in and out; not kissing so much as Liam gasping and moaning into Sam’s open mouth as he concentrates on following Liam’s cues, stopping when he stops, speeding up when he speeds up.

The noises he’s making are almost pained as together they slam the toy in and out of Liam’s ass, and he knows Liam’s still in control of this but to see it and feel it has Sam a little overwhelmed just by proxy.

When Liam’s moans get even harder, Sam asks, “You gonna come for me?”

“I –” he gasps, “I think so –”

“Yeah. Come on then. Come for me,” he says, moving his hand mercilessly as Liam shudders against him and _ howls _ into his mouth, and Sam opens his eyes just in time to see his cock jerking and splashing all over his belly, completely untouched.

Liam pulls the toy out of himself with a hiss and drops it on the towel before rolling over into Sam’s body, putting a hand on his neck and kissing him hard and deep, until Sam feels almost as breathless as he is, and now that he’s not focusing on Liam any more, almost painfully aroused. 

“Wanna suck your cock,” Liam mutters, still sounding dazed, and Sam grins and says brightly, “Be my guest,” and then lets out an _ oof _ of surprise when Liam unceremoniously shoves him onto his back and straddles his hips, kissing him again before sliding down his body.

Sam watches him pull his boxers down just far enough and nose at his cock like an animal before suddenly sucking it into his mouth without even using his hands – and when he flicks his eyes up at Sam and grins around his mouthful, gagging a little as it hits the back of his throat, Sam makes a frankly embarrassing noise and has to struggle not to come right then.

“_Fuck,_” he whispers, and Liam winks and starts to slide his lips up and down, and when he starts swirling his tongue around the head of Sam’s cock to boot it’s very little time at all before his orgasm rocks through him, coming into Liam’s mouth and watching wide-eyed as he swallows it down.

Liam pulls his boxers back up, and a few moments later he crawls back up his body and tucks his nose into Sam’s neck as Sam’s arms wrap around him, pressing one leg in between his.

“So,” he says, and kisses Sam’s neck.

Sam lets out a breath. “Yeah.”

He’s not freaking out, he realizes. Which is good, because they can both do without that.

In fact he thinks this should probably feel a lot weirder than it does, considering they just had _ sex. _

Maybe it’s a sign that it doesn’t, though.

He says, “I kinda can’t believe it fit.”

Liam laughs. “_I _kinda can’t believe it fit. But I had some help.” He gives Sam a careful look. “You good?”

“Yeah. I’m – maybe a little weirded out by how _ not _ weirded out I am?” 

Liam laughs again, and this time Sam can hear the relief in it. “Sounds complicated.”

“You know I had _ no _ idea.” He thinks it was supposed to be a question, but it doesn’t come out like one. “Not until you told me you’d used it. But – Quyen thinks you did.”

When Liam winces, Sam’s heart slams against his ribcage and he wishes he could take back the words and try again, ask a better question, one that doesn’t sound like an accusation –

But Liam’s already sighing. “Sort of. I mean, when I met you we were both newlyweds. So I always thought that in another life, maybe it would have happened. But we were already both married to amazing women that we loved, so. Not in this one.” His expression says, _ what can you do. _“And – you said you were straight.”

“And you didn’t believe me?” Sam asks, more sharply than he intended.

Liam sighs. “I don’t know. There was – something. Every now and then. But I could have been imagining it. And if I wasn’t, well. Better to let it lie, for so many reasons. So that was that. Until you got me a dildo for Secret Santa and blew everything out of the water.”

“Yeah.” Sam gives him a wry look – he’s not gonna apologize, but with the benefit of hindsight, he’s not sure if it’s something he should be proud of either. “I didn’t really think that through. Or – literally any of this. As you may have noticed.”

Liam grins and cranes his neck for a kiss, which is still new and strange and very, very nice. “That’s really not something I’m complaining about. I mean, it got us here.”

“Same time next week, then?”

It was supposed to be a joke, but it comes out hopeful and a little plaintive, and Sam immediately has to suppress the urge to hide, as if there’s any hiding from Liam.

Liam snorts. “More like same time next month. _ If _we’re lucky. Amy may be very understanding of the unique nature of our relationship, but she has her limits.”

“Yeah. Pretty much the same from my side. Can I put you down for some time in April?”

Liam laughs, and then says, “But really. We should have dinner, the four of us, and talk this through. And see where we go from there. If we’re going to keep doing this then we’ll have to be sensible about it.” He hesitates. “This isn’t just sex, for me.”

“Or for me,” Sam confesses, even though he’s sure Liam already knows as much. “I don’t think it could be.” 

He leans in and kisses him, and comes to a decision.

“I love you. And I don’t want us to overthink it.” Liam’s expression is so soft and open that he can’t help kiss him again. “We’re besties. We’re family. And things have gotten a bit sexy, and a bit – romantic, and I think it would be very easy to go into a tailspin about what it all means. But I don’t want to do that. I want us to just – be people, who love each other. Does that make sense?”

He thinks, I_ just want it to be okay. _

“Yeah. I think so.” Liam kisses him again. “I think we know how to just keep being us. With extra sexy times.”

“I think you know I never argue with extra sexy times,” Sam replies, sliding his hand down Liam’s back and grabbing his ass.

“Well, I do now.” 

Liam’s smiling at him like he can’t believe his luck, and it isn’t the first time he’s looked at Sam like this, but Sam thinks that this _ is _the first time he understands just what it means.

He kisses Liam on the nose and says, “Next time I wanna Goldfinger you myself,” and yelps in indignation when Liam promptly hits him with a pillow.


End file.
